John Roberts - The Princess and the Pirates

I couldn’t quite distinguish the man who was speaking, but I could make out two who stood close together not far from me, keeping clear of the men carrying burdens. They were well away from the illumination of the torches, and the light cast by the moon was not strong enough to make out details of feature or dress. I tried to work my way to a position where I might be able to see both of them to best advantage.

“This must be the last cargo for a while.” That voice was unmistakable: Gabinius. “Things are too volatile here. We’ll have to desist for a while.”

The other chuckled. “You mean that fool and his play navy?”

“That and other things. I’ve warned you. I won’t warn you again.”

“Your business isn’t just with me,” said the other, “and you know it.” Now I could see the two silhouetted against the moon and stars. The outline of Gabinius was as unmistakable as his voice. I thought at first that the other wore a cowl drawn over his head, then I realized it was his long hair falling below his shoulders: Spurius.

“Nonetheless, our business is concluded until I say otherwise. I’m giving you a letter to deliver along with your cargo. If you’ll take my advice, you’ll vacate these waters for a season or two. I hear the shores of the Euxine are a good prospect for a man of courage and enterprise.”

“I’ll determine my own destination,” Spurius said. “Besides, I’ve a notion to attend the festival. It is famed all over the world, and here I am, so handy to Paphos. It would be a shame to miss it.”

“Then your blood is on your own head. You’ll end up on the cross soon if you don’t clear out.”

“You know that isn’t going to happen.” I could hear the smile in his voice. But what was he referring to? Crucifixion or his departure for fairer waters?

“But,” Spurius went on, “I think it’s time for me to be out of this business anyway. Perhaps this should be my last voyage for you.”

There was a pause, then, “That might be best,” Gabinius said. At that point the two began to walk toward the house. I yearned to follow them, but there were too many men about, and there were more torches alight. I could see that some of them were held by Gabinius’s bullyboys, who wore armor and weapons. There was precious little trust on display that night.

I tapped Hermes on the shoulder, and we began to work our way carefully back into the bushes, then along the beach. There was so much more I wanted to know, but I had already pressed my luck as far as it would go. I have been a gambler all my life, but it is only money that you lose at the races.

Ariston loomed out of the night like an underworld demon sprung from a hole in the ground. “Are any of them after you?”

“If they are, they’re quieter than I am. Where is the boat?” Now that I had determined to leave, I wanted to be away quickly, as if this was the most dangerous phase of the operation. Stealthy activities often affect me that way.

“You’re almost standing on it. Help me carry it, and we’ll be away.” He had disguised it with brush, anticipating an all-night wait. We cleared away the boughs, picked it up once more, and carried it down to the water. Getting it back into the water proved to be more difficult than taking it out had been, perhaps because the waves, though small, were now trying to force us in the opposite direction. The result was an unavoidable splashing and scraping among the stones of the beach. I expected an alarm to be raised at any moment, but with strenuous effort we were soon afloat again.

When Ariston had rowed us some distance from the shore, I told him to stop. We rested for a moment, listening hard. Torches lined the wharf and the path to the house, so the pirates were still loading their ship. Whatever they had come for, there was a lot of it.

“Were you ever on any errands like this?” I asked the ex-pirate.

“It sounds like smuggling. I always felt that was beneath a pirate, but, as I’ve told you, these are a pretty sorry lot.”

“What would Gabinius be smuggling?” Hermes asked.

“Good question,” I said. “Come on, let’s get back to the base. Ariston, do you think we can get back in time to get the ships underway, return here, and bag this lot? We’ll never have another chance like this.”

“Speaking of chances, there isn’t any. They’ll have that ship loaded and away from here long before daylight, else there’s not much point in coming here at night. Even if you two could row, we wouldn’t have the ships crewed and launched and back here before midmorning. We wouldn’t catch a glimpse of their mast going over the horizon.”

“This mission lies under a curse,” I said to no one in particular. I dipped my fingers in the water and touched them to my lips to let Neptune know I wasn’t complaining about him.

Rosy-fingered Dawn was performing her daily act as we pulled up by the naval wharf. Ariston worked his arms and shoulders as we got out of the boat. Being sole rower in a three-man boat had taxed even his strength.

“Rest today,” I told him. “Spurius isn’t likely to strike until he’s delivered whatever he picked up to whomever it goes to.”

“What about me?” Hermes said. “I was up all night.” “You did nothing but ride in a boat. Oh, all right, go ahead and get some sleep. I have work to do.” I watched him trudge off toward his bed and thought I was being too lenient on the boy. At this rate I was going to ruin his character.

The good thing about a city getting ready for a festival is that the food vendors are out early, not wishing their town to be disgraced should a visitor die of hunger. A short walk and a few coins provided me with bread hot from the oven and dipped in honey, some grilled sausages, and heavily watered wine, warmed and spiced.

I found a comfortable bench near the water, shaded by an ivy-draped arbor, and engaged in one of the most profitable of all human activities: I sat and thought. Philosophers can make a living doing this, but I find that even a man of action can sometimes find no better use for his time. So, watching the fishing boats raise their sails and set out for their day’s work, I munched on my breakfast and considered the ramifications of what I had learned.

First, Gabinius and Spurius were deep in it together. No real surprises there. I had suspected Gabinius from the first.

Second, Spurius was definitely a Roman, if not from Rome itself. This may have been the meaning of his “that will never happen” remark. Citizens cannot be crucified. That most degrading of punishments is inflicted only on rebellious slaves and foreigners.

So much for the certainties. There were still many questions left to answer. What, precisely, was the relationship between the two men? I had assumed that Spurius was one of Gabinius’s officers or clients, but the pirate’s manner was not in the least subservient. He spoke as an equal. That, of course, could be bluff and bluster. I have known many soldiers, strong-arm men, and politicians who salved their pride and raised their own credit by putting on a fierce, I-bow-to-no-man front when dealing with their betters. Such men invariably find other, more subtle methods to cringe and toady. That was a definite possibility.

And just what was going on out there at Gabinius’s estate. Smuggling? If so, what? The ever-mysterious frankincense? It seemed bizarre, but so much about this business was baffling that I felt compelled to retain it as a possibility. Another thought struck me: suppose Spurius was stashing his loot on Gabinius’s estate. That might leave him free to continue his depredations in the area without having to repair to some distant island base. He would know it was safe, protected by his patron or partner, as the case might be. This was a definite possibility. I liked it.